


you'll make it, now

by writerforlife



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, boys who care deeply for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22123504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerforlife/pseuds/writerforlife
Summary: When Poe falls apart after the final battle, Finn is there to take care of him.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 24
Kudos: 300





	you'll make it, now

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [ты сделаешь это (you'll make it, now)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22201618) by [littlered24](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlered24/pseuds/littlered24)



> Just your standard post-TROS hurt/comfort, now featuring a very tired Poe. She isn't fancy, but she'll get the job done.
> 
> Title is from Glen Hansard's "Falling Slowly" which is a lovely, lovely song

Exhaustion, Poe realizes once the fight is won, is cumulative. 

People celebrate, alcohol and tears flowing freely, but Poe’s very bones  _ ache.  _ The weight of the past months settle in his body, and he can feel it, he can  _ feel  _ every late night and fraught decision and loss. People keep pulling him into hugs, crushing his injured arm against their chests—he hides his pained winces. Tonight, they need to see him smile.

Tonight, they don’t need to think about everything that comes next. 

He stares across the crowd. Finds Finn. Under the moonlight, his eyes shimmer, still brimming with tears, as he dances with Rose and Rey. As if he could sense Poe’s gaze, Finn looks up at him. Poe forces a smile. 

_ Why do I have to pretend?  _ he thinks.  _ I shouldn’t have to pretend.  _

When people are too drunk to notice, he slips away to his room. Only a golden lamp shines in his sparsely decorated room. The door closes behind him, and he slumps against it, eyes falling closed. He cups both hands around the back of his neck and sighs. He doesn’t know what’s more intense, the mental or physical ache. 

“You need to go to bed,” Poe mutters to himself. “Just go to bed.” 

He tries to stand. Succeeds. He tries to walk to his bed.

He falls after three steps. 

His bad shoulder slams against the ground first. Bruises and cuts scream in protest.  _ Don’t move,  _ his body says.  _ Don’t move _ . He studies his blistered hands, hands that hours ago, flew an X-Wing and fought the enemy—defeated the enemy. 

_ Come on, Dameron, get up _ .

His good arm shakes with the effort, and he collapses again. He scrunches up his nose, pushing back tears, but they fall anyways, streaming down his cheeks with reckless abandon. He can’t remember the last time he cried. Never seemed to be time. Plenty of time, now that he’s stuck on the floor and apparently too weak to stand up. 

_ You’re not Leia _ .  _ Leia would be stronger than this. You’re not Leia you’re not Leia you’re not Leia you’re not _ —

A knock interrupts his thoughts. 

“Poe?” Finn’s voice. “Poe, you in there?”

He buries his face in the carpet and groans. Not now. He doesn’t need Finn seeing him now. Not like this.  _ Not like this not like this not like this.  _

“I’m coming in, Poe.”

The door opens. Finn says his name in a single breath and rushes to his side. Poe shudders, chills shooting through his body. 

“Finn,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Are you hurt?” Finn’s hands search his body, urgent but gentle. “Poe, I’m going to find a healer.”

He catches Finn’s hand. “ _ No _ .” 

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Everything…” A wave of pain crashes over him; a cry escapes his lips. “ _ Finn _ .” 

“Okay,” Finn murmurs. “Okay, I’m gonna take off your sling, then I’m gonna take off your flight suit. I need you to tell me that’s okay.”

Poe reaches up and touches Finn’s cheek. Purple and blue swirl under his dark skin, bruised and delicate. “You’re hurt.” 

Finn’s brow crumple. “I need you to say yes before I do anything.” 

“You’re too good to me, Finn.”

“Come on, Poe. You gotta say yes before I do anything.” 

And Makers, if he hasn’t imagined Finn saying that in a  _ much  _ different context. But now, Finn will see. He’ll see how broken Poe is, how his body has betrayed him. 

Finn reaches for the sling and unties it gently. He lowers Poe’s arm to the ground, then reaches for the buttons on his flight suit. Poe’s breath hitches as Finn’s fingers brush his collarbone, as Finn works the suit from his body. Cold air whispers against his bare arms, then his chest when Finn removes the white undershirt. He imagines it to be the ghosts of everyone he let down. Everyone who  _ died _ . Because he wasn’t good enough, wasn’t fast enough, wasn’t smart enough, wasn’t  _ enough.  _

“Oh, Poe,” Finn says.

This is where Finn will decide that Poe is too much, and that, Poe thinks, is the damnedest paradox he’s ever seen. He’ll leave. 

But Finn’s brow is furrowed, his lower lip trembling. His hands skim over the violet bruises that litter Poe’s chest briefly. Then, he examines the blaster wound on Poe’s arm, a wince escaping his lips. 

“You have to be in pain,” Finn murmurs. 

“So many people died,” Poe replies. “We lost so many people.” 

Finn pushes Poe’s sweaty hair back from his forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He helps Poe to his feet, and they limp toward the bathroom, a strange, four-legged creature. Finn turns on the water in the tub. The rush fills Poe’s ears.

“I want to take you to the ocean,” Poe murmurs. “A good ocean. Not a crazy one.” 

“I’d love that.” Finn turns off the tap. “In you go.”

“What?”

“You think I just wanted to take a bath? You need to get cleaned up. Some of those wounds look terrible.”

“No, thank you.”

“You can’t just sit around covered in blood. Come on. I’ll help you.” 

“Someone should be taking care of you. I’m okay.”

Finn kneels in front of him. “Poe,” he says quietly. “You’re obviously not okay. You’ve done so much for me. You gave me my  _ name _ . You’ve been fighting for so long. You’ve lost so much. Please, let me help you. Let me do this for you.” 

Poe exhales. 

And he nods.

He sinks into the warm water with Finn’s help. He almost slips, but Finn braces his hands on Poe’s back and good arm. 

“Careful,” he whispers. Finn soaks a cloth, then lathers it with soap. He scrubs at Poe’s bloodied wounds, careful not to press too hard on his bruises. He treats the blaster wound with the utmost care, eyes lowered. “My heart nearly stopped when they shot you.” 

“I was alive,” Poe says. 

“I didn’t know that. For a moment…” Finn shakes his head. “I’ll wash your hair.” 

“You don’t need to.” 

“Don’t be the hero, Dameron. Let’s get the blood and dirt out, okay?”

Poe shudders and nods. 

Finn squeezes shampoo into his hands, then scrubs it into Poe’s curls. He scrapes his nails against Poe’s scalp and tugs his hair slightly as he works the shampoo through. Tension melts from Poe’s body as Finn continues to scrub. He exhales. 

“You kept trying to be the hero,” Poe whispers. “First with the cannon. Then you stayed. You  _ stayed _ . Do you know how scared I was? I meant everything. I can’t do this without you. The war might be over, Finn, but there are still things to do, people to save, worlds that—”

“Hey,” Finn interrupts. He tilts Poe’s chin up so he’s looking Finn in the eye. “You don’t have to be a general right now. Today, we  _ won _ . We won, Poe. People will live because of what we all did. Because of what  _ you _ did. Tilt your head back, close your eyes.” 

Poe obliges. Finn pours cups of warm water through Poe’s hair until the shampoo is washed out, then helps him out of the tub. 

Poe tries to dry himself off, but raising his injured arm causes problems. Finn towels him dry, eyes lowered, then helps him dress. They find themselves on the bed together, Poe’s arm hanging limply at his side. His heart thrums against his ribs. 

“Were you going to tell Rey that you love her?” he blurts.

“What?” Finn’s eyes widen. “No.  _ No _ . Is that what you thought?” 

“I don’t know, man. It’s been a long couple weeks. She’s wonderful, Finn.”

“But I’m not in love with her! I…” Tears rapidly fill his eyes. 

“Hey.  _ Hey _ .” Poe grabs his wrist.  _ Wow,  _ he thinks.  _ Aren’t you just an asshole?  _ “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push. If you don’t want to tell me—” 

“I’m Force-sensitive,” Finn blurts. “Ren tortured you with the Force, Poe. I know what he did to you. I know… I  _ know _ . You get nervous around Rey, sometimes, when she uses those mind tricks. I swear, I never—”

“Show me,” Poe whispers. 

Finn closes his eyes. Inhales deeply. The light from the lamp in the corner seeps from the bulb to hover in a golden orb. The sphere floats to the room’s center, and when Finn tilts his head thoughtfully, the light disperses. Finn’s skin shines and warms under the light, but when he opens his eyes and the light returns to the lamp, his gaze is troubled. 

“Finn,” Poe says, overwhelmed.

“If you need me to leave—”

Poe kisses him. 

Finn freezes, but when Poe pauses, he leans forward and deepens the kiss. He pulls Poe into his lap, then brings a hand to his still-wet curls. Poe pulls back, his lips still inches from Finn’s, and smiles. Finn’s arms wrap around his back, pulling him closer. They stay like that, locked in an embrace, Poe’s face buried in Finn’s neck. Finn’s body trembles.

“I’m sorry,” Finn whispers. “I’m crying again.” 

Poe draws away so he can look Finn in the eye. “Don’t be sorry,” he whispers. “We survived. We deserve this. Finn, I felt terrible earlier. You made everything okay.” He laughs breathlessly. He can’t remember the last time he laughed before this. “My hero.” 

Finn kisses him deeply, a promise of the future. " _ My  _ hero.”

This, Poe realizes, is what comes next. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr, @such-geekiness! Comments and kudos make my day :)


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